And It Goes On
by chibitalex
Summary: It had been exactly 63 years, 57 days, 13 hours, 27 minutes, and 38 seconds since Alfred and Arthur had begun dating.


**Hello, everyone. Sorry for my absence of writing, my trip to New Jersey had some complications...**

**But, ah. That's life I suppose. I apologise for the delay on IJI, the next chapter should be up within two or three days. Also, I am physically unable to name Americat and Englandcat anything other than Hero and Crumpets. Enjoy the story.**

**-chibitalex**

* * *

It had been exactly 63 years, 57 days, 13 hours, 27 minutes, and 38 seconds since Alfred and Arthur had begun dating.

They didn't know much back then. All that time ago, the two were just kids, lost in a sea of emotions and passion. They might have been stupid. The act of Alfred asking Arthur out was impulsive enough in itself, quite honestly, and it shocked him when Arthur had actually accepted his invitation for a date. Perhaps he was expecting a smack to the face, but not the absolutely warm smile that he had given him in return.

As much as they liked each other at the time, dating was... well, it wasn't exactly what Alfred would call a great time. Most of their dates were stiff and awkward. Both of them had tried too hard to stay within their boundaries and make only small talk, nothing more. Each and every date was monotonous and eventually, Alfred could tell that Arthur was considering dumping him out of sheer boredom. Those damn teenage love stories had lied.

With his head spinning and emotions running high, Alfred had grabbed his face and kissed him, muttering some sort of apology and reassurance that they could work things out. From that point on, the oddness and nerves of both of them had melted and fizzled away. They were just kids. It seemed they would go on dates everyday, to a movie, to dinner, sometimes just relaxing in each others dorm rooms to watch movies on their bed. It was bliss. Aside from remarks from other students, they had an ideal.

It wasn't as if they were joint at the hip, however. Arthur often went off to a secluded corner of the library to relax by himself. That's always how he was. Introverted. Most people would define him as a loner. Alfred knew better. Arthur wasn't a loner, it was that he needed a break every once in a while to collect his thoughts. Maybe they just didn't know him like Alfred did. There were also times when Alfred would take a night out drinking with some of his friends from the team and come back drop dead drunk.

As earlier stated, they were just kids. They made mistakes. Everyone does when they've just been kicked from their nest and released into the world. Fighting amongst them wasn't uncommon. Things were said that they would later laugh and apologise for.

And amidst all of the alcohol and long nights of relaxing in bed together just to talk and whisper sweet nothings, time had somehow sped up. College was over.

There hadn't been much of an argument or even a discussion about what they were going to do after college. It was left unspoken that the two wanted to move in together. Alfred, with his childish dreams of living happily ever after; Arthur, the romantic at heart who grew up on Shakespeare as bed time stories.

At first, it was difficult to tolerate each other's habits. Alfred had a problem with throwing away wrappers and bags from candies and fast food, while Arthur simply _had _to take showers that lasted for hours on end. Several nights they would spend completely apart from the other, with one of them curled up in bed, the other slumped forward on the couch. Neither of them got any sleep on nights like those. The next morning, they would always manage to make things better. They loved each other, didn't they? It was all okay. Everything would be alright as long as they had each other.

Time passed. They were still going steady. Neither of them were children anymore, but grown adults with professions and a lover that would stand by their side. What more could anyone ask for? Alfred and Arthur lived rather comfortably in a small house that they were still trying to pay off at the time. It wasn't anything ravish, no. But they didn't need a mansion. Arthur had always said that since the house was so small, the love per square foot would be much larger. At the time, Alfred had laughed and kissed him on the cheek, prodding him and saying how ridiculous he sounded. The more he thought about it though, the sweeter it began to sound. Perhaps Arthur was right. More love per square foot was a nice little thought, though it certainly didn't make him feel any better when he was rearranging furniture.

Somewhere along the line, Alfred had realised just how much Arthur meant to him. In truth, his partner was the one person to make him feel like he was on top of the world. The air he breathed and the one person he could fully trust. Arthur knew his personality, his body, and his mind, every inch of it. And he knew Arthur's. Alfred knew all of his quirks and features, from how long he liked his tea to be steeped to the light dusting of freckles on Arthur's ears and nose that you could only see if you looked closely. He knew which body wash was Arthur's favourite, how he liked to listen to music while reading, where exactly on his body to caress to make him shudder in pleasure. And every time Alfred gave him so much as a glance, his heart would stutter and feel as if it was about to burst out of his chest.

It seemed only natural that he should propose.

So he did. After a day-long date the next week, Alfred had gotten on his knees and poured his heart out to the man in front of him, his words and expression verging on begging Arthur for his hand in marriage. And of course, tearing up, Arthur had accepted.

The next day, they had been rejected for a marriage license.

Time passed. The both of them were in their early forties when they had decided to take up ballroom dancing together. It was more of the spur of the moment ordeal, as Arthur had found an ad whilst reading the morning paper. He had casually commented on it while Alfred was cooking them both breakfast, not giving it much thought, but it was too late. His lover was intrigued. And although their hair was duller, with strands of grey here and there, some things never change.

The first lesson was rather difficult for the both of them, as they would frequently step on each other's toes and proceed to giggle at the slightly angered expression. Neither of them could quite get the hang of it until the fifth week, at which point, something must have clicked in Alfred's and Arthur's brain. After only about a minute of their usual stiff footwork, they let go and were soon sweeping across the floor with each other, swept up in the momentum of their movements. They had hardly even realised the class was still being instructed until the instructor had turned off the music and told them to go be lovebirds somewhere else, the next class was coming in soon.

It was several years later Arthur had come home with a crate in his hand and a wide smile on his face. Alfred, who had just came home from work minutes earlier, stood up and greeted him with a welcome home kiss, before questioning what exactly was in the crate. Instead of answering, Arthur's smile grew as he gently set down the container and opened the door. Slowly, a rather large cat pushed its way through the opening, its paws seemingly too small for all of the fur on its body. Alfred's eyes lit up as he knelt down to run his fingers through its fur. The cat responded quite affectionately, with purring and nudging its head on the side of his palm.

Arthur had picked up the cat at the local shelter, and had he been an hour later, the cat would have been put down by then. He sat down next to Alfred, not giving a second thought that they were still sitting in the doorway and began stroking the newest member of the family. For a few minutes, all was well, as the cat purred and waved its fluffy tail. Soon enough, Alfred brought up picking out a name for it. Which, of course, had led to a debate. The Englishman, proud of his roots suggested something classy, such as William or James. The American, also true to his roots suggested quite a few more... flamboyant choices, such as Captain Ameripaw and Supurrhero. In the end, the one choice that they were both willing (perhaps Alfred a bit more) to settle on ended up being Hero.

Hero settled into his new home quite well. As soon as they had named him, he had waddled back into his crate so the couple could get out to buy him several things. The weeks went on, and before they knew it, they had adopted another cat, this one named Crumpets.

Two more years passed. The cats had gotten very close to each other. Things were quite well in the household. Alfred would often wander into the spare room (which had been transformed into a study) to find the two furry beasts lying on top of each other in a patch of sun. It was rather adorable, really. On nights where Alfred and Arthur would go out for date nights, they would often joke about how it was nice that the cats got some alone time as well.

Another year passed, and it was Arthur's 50th birthday. As a surprise, Alfred decided to dress up one of those fancy suits Arthur loved so much to take him out for dinner. Although he had begged his lover not to overdo the celebrations, Alfred wouldn't have any of it. They had been together for thirty years now, of course his lover deserved the best! As soon as they had exited the restaurant, a noise, presumably from a jet plane continued growing in volume until it appeared in the night sky before them.

_Happy Birthday, Arthur_

_I love you_

Several onlookers snickered, muttering something about how it seemed like the work of an obsessive girlfriend, but Alfred couldn't care less as Arthur's lips crashed into his with such force that it nearly sent them both hurdling towards the ground in bliss. People may have stared, but neither of them could think about anything else but each other at the moment. As the two pulled away for air, Alfred chuckled at the red tint on Arthur's cheeks. Huffing, the other dragged his lover back to their tiny house.

Five years later, they began taking walks in the park while Hero and Crumpets followed close behind. There were several nice benches at the local park, ones overlooking ponds that were often filled with ducks. They weren't young anymore. Stretching and daily exercise were necessary. It was Alfred's idea to bring sandwiches with them as they walked. Holding hands, they would make their way across the park after their work shifts to feed the ducks and relax with each other (Of course, Arthur remembered to bring along some treats for Hero and Crumpets as well.). There were times when they would lose track of time and end up staying on the bench until dark. Oftentimes, Alfred would notice that Arthur would stop talking and just stare at him, almost as if he were seeing his lover for the very first time again. It wasn't uncommon for Alfred to see how perfect the sunlight reflected on Arthur, how stunning he truly was. It had been thirty five years now. Alfred couldn't say that he regretted how he lived his life in the slightest. Arthur was living life with him. That was all he needed.

Two more years passed, and they woke up to find that Hero had passed away peacefully in his sleep, with a smile on his face and Crumpets' head resting in his fur. When Arthur had told him, Alfred had walked into the study to find the remaining cat pawing at Hero's fur and trying to nudge him awake.

The next week, they had held a funeral in the back yard for Hero. Alfred and Arthur had engraved a wooden post and buried him by Arthur's flower garden in the corner.

After the small goodbye to Hero, Crumpets didn't do much. Every time Alfred tried to feed him, he would either ignore the food entirely or take a nibble or two. He would walk around the house, but he never went in the study again. He was most often found resting on Hero's grave, sometimes sleeping, most of the time just sitting. He passed away two weeks after Hero.

Ten years passed. The winter was cold. It was so cold, in fact, that Arthur decided to use a bit of the funds he began putting away for a Victorian style shed to build a fireplace in their living room. The nights of that winter were often filled with Alfred's laughter and Arthur playfully teasing him about how his grey his hair was getting. Not that Arthur was much better. There were nights where the American would make tea for them both and they would relax in front of the fireplace together in silence, sometimes leaning over to kiss the other. Nothing much else needed to be said. They had been together for forty seven years. Everything had been said by now. Though, it didn't make either of them any less happy than when they first started dating to hear the three magic words.

Five years went by. Arthur retired. Alfred retired. Their days were long and filled with love. The beach wasn't too far from their small home. In fact, the beach was a rather short distance away. The wet sand felt lovely beneath their toes as they walked down the shore together.

Five more years flew by. Although there were times when their joints would hurt, their love for dancing with the other never ceased. Alfred wasn't as energetic when spinning him around the room as he used to be. Slow and cautious, for fear of breaking something was the way to go. The lessons they used to attend together were much too rough and full of many young couples now. It was alright. They had a few feet of open space to dance in, and a stereo that worked. Sometimes the stereo would stop playing during the middle of a song, but they never stopped dancing. No matter how old they got, some things never changed. Alfred loving Arthur certainly didn't change. And after 57 years, he was fairly sure that if Arthur put up with him for this long, he loved him as well.

Time passed.

Alfred stirred one morning to find Arthur still asleep. After calling his name and nudging him to get up, the reality sunk in on him.

He looked like an angel, eyes closed and his head resting upon the pillow. A smile gently graced his lips and his hands rested upon his unmoving chest. Yes, his face was lined with wrinkles, but Alfred preferred to call them life lines. Arthur looked beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

Much to his surprise, he didn't shed any tears. Arthur wouldn't want him to cry. He had always said that Alfred looked best with a smile on his face. It was never much of a worry, up until this point.

And for the first time in years, he found himself trying to keep a smile on his face.

Over the course of the next two weeks, he had called up his and Arthur's group of friends to tell them the news. Some responded in immediate tears, some expressed sorrow on Alfred's behalf as a first reaction. But nonetheless, they all insisted upon assisting in the preparations for Arthur's funeral.

Alfred did most of the planning. He knew Arthur better than anyone. The flowers laid upon the casket would be roses. Arthur had loved roses and always kept a vase in the house somewhere. The music was going to be soft and simple. Alfred made sure to fit in their dancing song onto the soundtrack. Alfred was sure Arthur would have thought it to be lovely.

It was raining the day of the funeral. Alfred's friends had been Arthur's friends, and vice versa. Each one of them had some sort of story to tell, whether it was about college or the workplace. Everyone attending the funeral was close with one another. Slowly, each of them approached the casket to say goodbye to their old friend.

Alfred went up last.

Arthur looked just as gorgeous as the day he had met him.

Giving him one last peck on the forehead, Alfred gave a smile and nod to the men, who then lowered Arthur down into the Earth.

Time passed.

It had been exactly 63 years, 57 days, 13 hours, 27 minutes, and 38 seconds since Alfred and Arthur had begun dating.

The sky was bright. Sun shone through the clouds as the American walked through the headstones to find his beloved.

"Hey, Art," Alfred smiled, placing several roses down on his grave. "I've missed you."

There was no response.

"The house of ours is really lonely without you, you know," He sighed. "I wish you were here with me. It would be great if we could have a night together again."

Alfred chuckled and sat down.

"I guess that's too much to ask for. Well, it's not a problem. I can still come visit you here."

He smiled and plucked out some of the petals from the bouquet to dust over the grass. "I've been thinking, maybe I should bring the flowers that you planted over here. You know, so you can watch over them. I've been keeping them watered and everything, but I guess they just don't like me as much as they liked you." Alfred's smile turned into a wide grin. "Then again, I don't really blame them."

The wind rustled.

"All of the guys... they've been really helpful. I try and hang out with them, and it might temporarily get my mind off of you, but... whenever I come home, the house is empty. I don't think I'll ever be able to get over that."

Alfred pulled at some weeds in the ground. "But it's okay. I'm happy," He smiled. "I have my memories. And I have my photos of us together. I have all of the things that you left behind. I have everything."

"And, you know, I can't really ask for any more. Our life together was a long one. And I'm so, so happy..." Alfred couldn't help but choke up as tears began to well up in his eyes. "Thanks, Artie. Thank you so much."

Removing his glasses, Alfred wiped away at his tears. "I love you," He sniffed. "God, I sound like an idiot now, don't I? You always called me an idiot. And a bloody git. But it sounded so nice coming from you."

For the next hour, the man sat in silence at his lover's grave, just remembering. It was time to go.

"I love you, okay, Artie?"

As Alfred stood up, his back yelled in protest. He cracked it and slowly walked back to the parking lot with his hands in his pockets. Ah, well. He was old, after all. It only made sense that his joints would be sore. Getting up was a struggle in the morning. But it was okay. It just meant he'd see Arthur again soon. And who knows?

Maybe they'd finally be able to get married in heaven.


End file.
